


Red Flag Rising

by ArtemisPendragon (DestinyWolfe)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Alien Invasion, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Post-War, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Nuclear Winter, Post-Apocalypse, Post-Nuclear War, Team as Family, Zombies, i couldn't decide between zombies/nuclear war/alien invasion, prime example of my Too Much Gene in action, so i did all three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-09-27 13:15:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20408353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestinyWolfe/pseuds/ArtemisPendragon
Summary: In 2069, ten years after Earth makes first contact with a hostile alien race, a band of survivors known as the Mighty Nein set out across the wastelands of North America, headed for the California coast. It is said that there is a  'paradise' there where survivors of the nuclear war waged against the invaders can live in peace, but two thousand miles of deadly wilderness lie between the Mighty Nein and their goal. However, with supplies running low and the constant threat of an alien-borne, rabies-like sickness plaguing their steps, what other choice do they have?





	1. The Four-Leaf Flower

**Author's Note:**

> I have no self-control and also I hate editing and miss writing so I'm gonna be working on this fic while I'm also editing Last Light of the Midnight Sun. I'm gonna be writing this without an outline (foreshadowing? what's foreshadowing?) and on a chapter-by-chapter basis, so posting will likely be sporadic, and I might not update for AGES in between. Apologies in advance for future-Artemis. She's a lazy sunovabitch.

  
**Chapter One**

****

**The Four-leafed Flower**

It was a bitterly cold summer morning, the sun hiding behind billowing clouds of ash, when Molly and Caleb set out into the Mississippi Wastelands in search of supplies. Underfoot, the thirsty earth cracked and crumbled, half-dead plants clinging to bare stone. Mist, thick and sickly, hung around them, condensing on the outsides of their radiation suits. The suits were heavy, thick and lined with layers of lead, but form-fitting to avoid awkwardness in combat. The helmets were sleek and aerodynamic, perfect for diving and swimming. Most of the survivors had been underwater when the blasts went off. When they emerged from the safety of their ocean bunkers, they found a world free from the threat of alien invaders; however, the earth itself was unrecognizable, as alien and hostile as the distant sands of Mars.

“We should be back by noon.” Molly glanced over his shoulder at Caleb, who had crouched down to examine a particularly deep crack in the dirt. “What is that?”

Caleb straightened up. “For a moment I thought I heard the sound of water.” Behind the tinted screen of his helmet, his eyes burned blue. “It was nothing. Besides, even if we were to find water out here, it would be undrinkable. There is no safe water in the South anymore. Not natural water, anyway.”

“Well, if it turns out that fort over there is empty—” Molly gestured to the distant stone walls of the only structure for miles around, “—or full of friendly survivors, it’s possible we’ll find some packaged water. And food, if we’re particularly lucky.”

“And medical supplies,” Caleb added grimly. “Jester says we are running low again.”

“We can’t have that! She’s a talented girl, but even the best doctor can’t do much with only her hands.”

Caleb was silent for a long moment, staring down at his feet, clearly lost in thought. 

“What’s on your mind, Caleb?”

“Too many things.” Caleb sighed. He ran a gloved hand over his helmet, leaving a smear of dust across the curving plastic screen. Molly reached up to wipe it away, smiling as Caleb ducked his head to give him better access. “_Danke_,” Caleb murmured. “Should we continue?”

Molly took the lead again. The fort was built up on a rugged hill covered in burnt tree stumps, making it a strategic location for long-term warfare. There had been a lot of that in the Deep South—the aliens had originally landed in the Caribbean, coming ashore in Florida, Alabama, and Mississippi, wreaking havoc on all in their path. 

That had been ten years ago. 

Two years ago, the final stand against the invaders was made. The fallout, social and nuclear, was devastating. The survivors banded together, gangs roaming the wastelands in search of shelter and supplies. Many of the bunkers built to withstand the alien invasion still stood, providing temporary refuge from the poisonous air and irradiated earth. Five-foot-thick lead walls and oxygen generators kept the interiors hospitable; however, the relief they provided was temporary at best, unless it contained enough weapons and ammunition to defend it indefinitely against those infected with the alien-borne rage-virus. Even if holding the fort was an option, survivors would eventually be forced to move on in search of fresh food and water. The bunkers, while well-stocked with provisions, were not designed to serve as long-term residences. 

Molly stopped a shot’s distance from the bunker. “I don’t see a flag.”

Caleb came up next to him. “_Ja_, it appears they don’t have one.” Molly could hear the frown in his voice. 

“Then how the fuck are we supposed to know if it’s safe?”

“I… that is a good question, Mollymauk, but I am not sure it has a good answer.”

“White or red. It’s that fucking easy.” Molly kicked a rock. It tumbled down the steep path behind them, stirring up dust and ash. He waved a hand at the flagpole, still standing tall at the center of the walled fort. “They took it down. They must’ve. Why the fuck else would there be no flag?”

Caleb shrugged. “Perhaps there is no one here. The soldiers who used this bunker during the war may have died, or left, and since then the flags and their ropes have decayed.”

“Decayed?” Molly scoffed. “Look around, Caleb. This place is a fucking nuclear wasteland. The shit that survived the blasts is gonna be preserved for decades, if not centuries.”

“That… _ja_, that is probably true. It is hard for things to decay without microbes to break them down.”

Molly drew his sleeve over the front of his helmet in a subconscious attempt to wipe away the sweat beading on his face and neck. The morning air was freezing cold, but the radiation suits were heavily insulated, often to the point of discomfort. However, despite his thick gloves and knee-high lead-lined boots, Molly’s feet and hands stayed stubbornly cold. Usually this would seem strange, but given the anxiety churning in his chest, he attributed it to a natural panic response. As calm and collected as he appeared, travelling outside the bunkers was always dangerous. A simple supply run could turn deadly in a heartbeat. Molly had been on a few of those. He’d watched plenty of people die, some by his own hand. But that was the way it was now. That’s the way war had always been.

“Maybe it’s a warning.” Caleb was still staring at the bare flagpole. “Or a signal that this bunker is empty of supplies. That it is not worth entering.”

“Red is a warning. White means it’s safe.” Molly repeated what they all knew by heart. “So what the fuck does no flag mean?”

“I think it would be safer to turn around.” Caleb sounded defeated, weary. “Perhaps one of the infected tore it down to lure travelers in. It would not be the first time that one of them retained enough of their mental faculties to set a trap.”

“We _desperately _need supplies. Our bunker is running out of oxygen, you know that. Everyone’s starting to feel it. It’s getting thin in there, and if we don’t move on soon, we’re gonna be in big fucking trouble.”

Caleb glanced at him. “We are already in big fucking trouble, Mollymauk. But I do recognize the direness of this situation. I just don’t think it is wise to throw caution to the wind in the name of preventing future problems. We can find another bunker. I am sure this isn’t the only one nearby; we can set out tomorrow at first light in the opposite direction. There’s no point kicking a hornets’ nest. Especially if the hornets have guns, or are infected with a deadly virus.”

Molly knew he was right. He _knew_, but he was tired, and furious, and, although he didn’t like to admit it, he was afraid. Not only for himself, but for his team, his family, his little group of unlikely survivors who, against all odds, had found each other in their darkest hour.

“Mollymauk, please.” Caleb’s hand fell on his shoulder. Even through the padded suit, Molly felt the warmth of Caleb’s touch. 

“I just want to _look_,” Molly said. He didn’t know why, but he was suddenly determined to continue despite the clear danger. “We walked for at least eight miles—”

“Seven and a half,” Caleb murmured.

“—and I am not giving up now that we’re on the goddamn doorstep.”

“If you walked to the edge of a cliff and found no river, would you still jump?”

Molly clenched his fists. “Stop making analogies at me. It’s not the same.”

“No.” Caleb’s tone was unreadable. “But it is similar enough.”

Molly started up the path again. He glanced over his shoulder, smiling without a trace of his usual good humor. “Coming? Or would you like to wait down here until I bring out all the supplies by myself?”

Caleb didn’t move. “Why are you being like this?”

“Oh, no reason. Just that the only people I love in this godforsaken world are slowly dying of oxygen deprivation, and unless we gather enough food and water to move on in the next couple days, we’re all going to suffocate!”

“Molly—”

“No, Caleb, don’t. Don’t even try. I’m going in, and you have two options: come with me, or stay here.”

“There is a third option.”

“Oh, do tell.”

“I could turn around and return to our bunker without you.”

Panic pierced Molly’s heart, and for a moment he paused a few paces from the bunker’s exterior entrance chamber, swaying. “I… would you do that?” He didn’t mean to sound so vulnerable, so unsure. Clenching his fists, he lifted his chin, trying to look defiant rather than hurt.

Caleb didn’t reply for a long moment. “No,” he said, finally, “I would like to think I would not.”

“Well. That’s good to hear.” A tense pause. Molly sighed. “I’ll only take a look at the first chamber. If there’s any sign of danger, I’ll leave immediately. If not, I’ll come back out and we can decide together how to go from there. Alright?”

“Not really. But I can see you will not be dissuaded.”

“No,” Molly said, and made his way up to the bunker’s doorstep. “I won’t.”

✤ ✧ ✤ ✧ ✤

It took Molly a few tries to unwedge the lever and activate the mechanism to open the entrance chamber. The lead-coated door opened slowly, unsealing without the usual hiss of compressed air being released. Not a great sign, Molly thought, but not necessarily a deal breaker. Even if this bunker had run out of clean air, the supplies could be preserved in deeper, better-insulted chambers.

The first chamber was completely dark. Molly reached up and switched on the nightvision feature on his helmet, blinking as the screen flickered and adjusted to accommodate the low light levels.

The room was full of old, long-dead electronics. One wall appeared to have once been a surveillance screen, now cracked and shattered in several places. _An intelligence base,_ Molly thought. _Fuck._ Although intelligence officers also kept supply stashes, it was far more likely that they had made it out of this fort alive, and with their supplies intact. After all, it was the soldiers and warriors who left behind empty bunkers strewn with burnt and torn corpses. It was the soldiers who hadn’t had the option of sneaking out the proverbial backdoor. 

The first chamber was a ring that ran around the outside of the main structure, donut-shaped and hollow like a massive, curving pipe. The doors to each room were intact, but hanging on rusting hinges. As Molly suspected, all of the supplies had been removed, whether by the original occupants or other scavengers, he couldn’t tell.

He found the hatch to the second chamber about fifty paces from the main entrance. For a long moment he stood staring at it, biting his bottom lip, flexing his fingers indecisively. “Caleb?” he said, tilting his chin down to speak directly into the microphone inside his helmet. “Caleb, do you read me?”

Nothing but static and silence. 

Molly took a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay. Okay, Caleb, if you’re reading me, I’m going into the second chamber. Just for a moment. I’ll be right out, but the first chamber is a bust and I think I’ll find more farther in.”

The second door was easier to open. The mechanism was less crusted with dirt and ash and opened smoothly and soundlessly. Molly held his breath, listening intently for the sound of approaching footsteps or the snarling of the infected, but the silence stretched on and eventually he worked up the nerve to step into the second chamber. 

Molly stopped dead. The chamber door slid closed behind him, but he was too focused on the sight before him to startle at the slight _thud._ Stepping forward, careful not to make too much noise, he looked around with a growing sense of wonder. 

It was a greenhouse. Everywhere, plants bloomed and grew under heatlamps radiating red light, tangled cords rising up into holes in the ceiling. _Solar panels,_ Molly thought. Even in the midst of a nuclear winter, someone had found a way to channel and condense the sun’s energy enough to keep a miniature forest alive.

Molly stopped at the center of the room. A palm tree, short and stunted but thick with fronds, bowed before him, its leaves brushing the thick grass sprouting from the dirt-covered ground. Molly went up on his tiptoes and rolled his heels down, reveling in the feeling of soft, living dirt underfoot. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “Caleb, get in here.”

There was still no response. Logically, he knew the signal couldn’t get through the reinforced lead walls, but the moment was too big, too unreal, to experience alone. No one would believe this. No one would fucking believe this.

At the far end of the room was a glass case shaped like a coffin. Frowning, Molly approach, cautiously slow. Inside the oddly-shaped container was an array of brightly-colored flowers on long stalks. They were shaped like four-leaf clovers, petals alternating blue and gold. On top of the glass was a small plaque engraved in tiny text.

_To anyone who reads this: take these with you to Paradise. They may be the solution. They may be the answer to our prayers._

And then, under that:

_The virus is deadly, but it is not untreatable. There’s a way. There’s always a way._

In a flash of almost sickening realization, Molly understood. “The fucking flowers.” His voice shook, palms slick with sweat under his gloves. “Caleb, I found something! This is… holy shit, this is _insane, _this is…” He trailed off. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Okay. I have to take one with me. As proof.”

He searched around until he found a smaller version of the coffin incubator. He switched on the tiny heatlamp, powered by an equally tiny solar panel that had miraculously held a charge for however long this place had been abandoned, and delicately removed the glass from the coffin case. Holding his breath, he scooped up one of the flowers, roots and all, and placed it in the smaller planter. He took a few handfuls of fertilizer and packed that in around it before replacing both glass lids. “There.” Molly held up the four-petaled flour in its elegant glass case. Bathed in the red glow of its heat lamp, it almost looked as if it was stained with blood. “Perfect. Fucking beautiful.” 

Pulling out his radiation-resilient supply pack, Molly sealed the glass case inside. As long as they got back fast, he thought, the relatively low dose of radiation the flower would receive would be unlikely to kill it. And, he told himself, even if it did, there were hundreds more here, preserved under a thick layer of glass sheltered by lead-lined walls.

Molly emerged from the bunker with a triumphant grin on his face. “Caleb!” He lifted his supply pack, waving it around. “Caleb, you won’t _believe _what I—”

A man leapt down from on top of the bunker, knocking Molly prone before straddling him, snarling and clawing at his helmet. Molly had forgotten to switch off his nightvision, and the world was a swirl of chaotic color as he fought to dislodge his attacker. “Caleb!” he yelled. “Caleb, fuck—!”

The man rolled off, and Molly scrambled to his feet. In the struggle, his pack fell from his hand, sliding down the rugged cliff face, clattering against ash-coated rocks. Molly swore creatively, launching himself after it. The attacker followed, still snarling viciously, rolling through the dust and ash until his raw, blistering skin matched the sickly beige hue.

It was only when Molly reached the bottom of the hill that he realized Caleb was nowhere to be seen. His whole body ached, but he fought past the pain, grabbing his supply pack and slinging it over his shoulder. “Caleb!” he screamed. “Caleb, answer me! Fucking… Caleb, _answer me_, dammit!”

“Mollymauk! I’m here! I’m in the—” Static swallowed Caleb’s voice. 

Molly whirled around, unsure where it had come from, pressing the tips of his fingers to his helmet to push the receivers closer to his ears. “Caleb! Give me your location. Are you still up on the hi—?”

The crazed man slammed into Molly from behind. Molly hadn’t expected him to recover so fast, and was again taken by surprise. He rolled away, grabbing the pack containing the flower as he did. He was up and running in a heartbeat. He heard the rasping snarls of his pursuer right behind him, but as he began to climb the hill, he pulled ahead, the fresh, pure oxygen circulating through his suit giving him a distinct advantage.

Molly stopped in front of the fort, breathing hard, alarms sounding through the emergency alert system wired into his suit. “I know, I know,” he growled. He shut off the alarms and turned back down the hillside, frantically looking for Caleb.

“Mollymauk?”

Molly whirled toward the sound of Caleb’s voice, and there was Caleb himself, emerging from the bunker’s first chamber. “Oh, thank god.” Molly grabbed Caleb’s shoulder, half to steady himself, half to make sure Caleb was real. He’d heard of apparitions appearing to people left alone in the wastes, hallucinations brought on by fear and the mind-scrambling effects of radiation poisoning. But Caleb was solid under his fingers, and Molly breathed a sigh of relief.

The relief was short-lived. Caleb, with his keen observational skills, immediately noticed the infected man, who was covered in dirt and dust, still resolutely dragging himself up the hill toward them. “Oh, _Scheiße._”

“Yeah,” said Molly. “That just about sums it up.”

“We should run. There is no point tangling with an enemy we can outpace.”

“What, and lead him right back to the bunker? The fucking infected aren’t loners. He’s got friends around somewhere, I promise you.”

“I believe I am more capable of making decisions than you. At least for now.”

Molly glared at him. “Oh, really? And why is that? Is it because of your massive IQ, which clearly makes you better than everyone else, or because I’m too stupid to recognize a serious threat when I see one?”

“Who’s idea was it to go into the bunker, Mollymauk?”

“Oh, fuck you, Caleb! This isn’t the time to point fingers.”

The infected man moaned. He was only a few paces away now, but still crawling. He lifted his head. The blisters covering his face ruptured, sand and ash sticking to the pus and blood running down his cheeks and into his eyes. He muttered something incomprehensible, shuddering. He stretched out a hand to them. His nails were gone, Molly noticed, fingertips raw from clawing his way up the hill. His skin looked like it had been submerged in water for weeks, bloated and bleached white, tinged a sickly grey. He looked already dead. 

Caleb took a step toward the man. Molly instinctively grabbed him by the back of his suit, but Caleb shrugged him off. “He’s in the last stage of the disease.” Caleb knelt. His voice was tinged with the unique fascination of a scholar. “He will not follow us.”

“Then leave him. I found something a lot more important and interesting. I’ll tell you on the way back.”

Caleb nodded, but he didn’t move until the man stopped twitching, head falling limp onto the stones. Clearing his throat, he straightened up, turning back toward Molly. “You’re right. We should go.”

✤ ✧ ✤ ✧ ✤

They were halfway down the hill when Molly began to feel lightheaded. He paused, taking a few deep breaths, but the sensation only got worse. “Hey, Caleb?”

Caleb, who had taken the lead for the return journey, turned around. “What is it, Mollymauk? Is everything alright?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’m having some trouble…” He took a shaky breath, swaying a little. Reaching up, he activated the diagnostics panel on his helmet’s screen. He skimmed the system reports, and, with a sinking feeling, found exactly what he’d been hoping not to find. “Ah.”

“What does _ah_ mean?”

“_Ah _means _ah,_ I figured something out.” Molly turned off diagnostics. He managed a smile, even as his heart beat faster and his limbs began to weaken. “It appears that wrestling the infected and falling down a cliff can fuck up your oxygen circulation system. Who would’ve known?”

Caleb’s expression turned from confusion to concern, before landing on panic. He swore long and loud in German, reaching for Molly’s shoulder. “Was there oxygen inside that bunker?” He pointed back up the hill.

“I… not in the outer chamber. The second chamber had air, I think, but I’m not sure… there were these glass cases full of plants, but I don’t… I don’t know…” Molly’s vision blacked out. If it weren’t for Caleb holding him up, he would’ve fallen on his face. He tried to speak, but the words came out wrong, and he snarled in frustration. Everything was spinning around him. He was completely disoriented, turned around, lost in space. Which way was north? South? Fuck that, which way was _up?_

Distantly, he was aware someone was holding his shoulders, yelling at him, mostly saying the words _‘no’ _and _‘don’t_’ over and over. Molly wasn’t exactly sure what he wasn’t supposed to be doing. All he knew was that he couldn’t breathe, and it hurt, and he needed this _stupid fucking helmet off_… 

He rolled over. In a moment of strange clarity, he realized what he had to do. Lifting his head, he slammed his helmet into the rocky ground, once, twice, three times, until the glass cracked. The person holding his shoulders was still yelling, telling him to stop, but he ignored it. Did they want him to suffocate? This was the only option. Couldn’t they see?

One last blow, and the glass shattered. Molly inhaled deeply, and the air burned in his lungs, ice-cold and thick with dust. Molly didn’t care. How could he care when this air was keeping him alive? But then his vision returned, and with it his ability to think clearly, and a new kind of fear flared in his chest. “Oh, shit.” 

He rolled over, and there was Caleb, crouched beside him, staring at him with wide eyes. “Molly,” Caleb whispered. “Why did you do that?”

“Oh, no reason.” Molly tried to smile, to deflect until he could properly collect himself and assess the severity of the situation. “Maybe because I was suffocating to death?”

“The radiation—”

“I know. I _know._” Molly shoved himself upright, staggering as his knees threatened to give out. Caleb grabbed his shoulders and held him up as he breathed shallowly, trying not to let the poisonous air penetrate too deep into his lungs. “I’m already fucked. But… but I might at least live long enough to contract the virus if I get into the bunker sooner rather than later.” He smiled sardonically. “Best case scenario, at this point, wouldn’t you say?”

Caleb said something in response, but Molly didn’t hear it. Another wave of sick dizziness washed over him, and he fell against Caleb, eyes closing against his will as the world narrowed to a single point of white, before fading to bottomless black.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm an indecisive bitch who wanted to do a post-apocalyptic story, but couldn't decide between aliens/zombies/nuclear war, so I posted about it on my Tumblr and a bunch of fantastic people helped me come to the conclusion that ALL THREE is the way to go. Y'all were definitely right!! Thanks for the help, my dudes <3 Hope at least some of you get a kick outta this.


	2. From Bad to Worse

****

**Chapter Two**

****

****

**From Bad to Worse**

****

The first thing Caleb noticed when he slammed the door to the second chamber shut was the light. A dull red glow, gentle as spring sunlight falling on fresh grass. 

The second thing Caleb noticed was the plants. Fronds spread overhead, vines growing up rotting wooden poles. As he settled Molly’s unconscious body at his feet, he felt the ground give under his boots. Holding his breath, he reached down and trailed his fingers over it. His glove came back stained, dirt clinging to his fingertips.

_It’s impossible,_ he thought. He felt numb. Not good numb or bad numb, but as if he were floating, frozen in place as the world shifted around him. _How have they survived?_

He straightened up, looking around in awe, and that’s when he realized where the light was coming from. _Heatlamps. Someone knew how the war would end, and they made this place as a safe haven._

It wasn’t unheard of. There were stories—legends, really—of a contain and self-sufficient paradise built during the war in the ruins of Los Angeles. Before communications broke down entirely nearly a year and a half ago, the last country-wide broadcasts had repeated the same message over and over for three weeks straight: _If possible, rendezvous in Los Angeles. A safe haven is being built. If you are unable to reach this location, find your nearest bunker or military base and continue broadcasting SOS signals on all frequencies. We are sending scouts east to pick up survivors. Remember that it is not safe to approach anyone displaying symptoms of the alien-borne virus, and that all symptomatic individuals should be kept under strict quarantine until help arrives. There is not yet a cure, but one is being developed in California. There is still hope for humanity. Travel west. Come find us._

Caleb hadn’t believed it. Not until this very moment, standing amid plant species he’d believed long dead, green and tall and thriving behind lead-lined bunker walls. _Maybe it is possible._ He ran his fingers over a palm’s spreading fronds, tracing its slender trunk, rough with beige bark. _Maybe there is hope._

Molly shifted, groaning, and Caleb snapped back to reality. He cursed himself for his momentary lapse in concentration and lucidity, dropping to his knees beside Molly and putting both hands on his companion’s shoulders. “Mollymauk.” He shook him. “Are you with me?”

Molly’s eyes opened for an instant, then closed again. “Mmm. Caleb?”

“_Ja._ It’s me.” Caleb carefully removed the shards of plastiglass sticking out of Molly’s mask, the remnants of his shattered facial screen. “You are a mess, Mollymauk.”

Molly smiled, but didn’t open his eyes. “Yasha could’ve told you that. Or Beau. Beau would be happy to give a presentation on the topic, I’m sure.”

“I am sure she has one prepared, should I ask for it.”

“Caleb?”

“Yes?”

“How bad is it?”

Caleb sighed. “I don’t know. I won’t know until we can get back to Jester. I am not a doctor.”

“Not a medical doctor,” Molly said. His eyes opened, hazy and distant. Then he blinked, and they focused on Caleb. He smiled again, despite his obvious discomfort. “You’re lots of other kinds of doctor, I’m sure.”

Caleb didn’t refute it. Instead he set about picking sharp bits of plastiglass out of Molly’s hair and the soft lining of his helmet. He tried to ignore the burns beginning to show on Molly’s cheeks and nose, the way Molly’s lips had cracked and were beginning to bleed. 

“How long was I out?”

“You have been unconscious for ten minutes.”

“Well, that’s not optimal. But what I meant was, how long was I out_side?_” 

Caleb hesitated. He dumped the shards of plastiglass onto the grass and dirt and pressed a shaking hand to his facial screen. It had taken him so long, _too _long, to drag Molly up the hill and into the bunker. He knew it wasn’t his fault, that he was lucky to have made it at all when Molly was clad in a lead-lined radiation suit, but guilt welled up, bitter and cold. “Seven and a half minutes.” 

Molly smiled, shrugging as if this wasn’t a big deal, but Caleb saw right through the act. Molly was scared. He was sacred, and he should be. “Again, not optimal. But honestly I’ve been through worse and made it out the other side.”

Anger joined the panic and guilt churning in Caleb’s chest. He glared at Molly, suddenly furious. “Past experiences with physical trauma usually have little bearing on how well you will handle future trauma. Especially if it is an entirely different type of injury, as this is. A traumatic brain injury resulting in retrograde amnesia is one thing. Radiation poisoning and potential infection with an alien pathogen is another.”

“I love it when you get all technical.” Molly took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes. His face scrunched up with pain. “Not to interrupt what I’m sure is the beginning of a rousing academic speech on radiation sickness, but I’m freezing my arse off. Any chance you can fix the temperature regulator in this fucking thing?” He tapped the front of his suit, his movements shaky and weak.

Caleb frowned. He shook his head. Then, realizing Molly couldn’t see him, added, “I don’t think we have time for that. And besides, the closed system is no longer closed. Any heat your suit generates will simply be lost through the hole in your helmet.”

Molly cursed long and loud in Gaelic. He pushed himself into a sitting position, grabbing Caleb’s shoulder to keep from falling over. Caleb put his hand over Molly’s. “Hello, handsome,” Molly said, and knocked their helmets together, still smiling slightly. _Still pretending_, Caleb thought, and felt sick. 

Caleb put an arm around Molly’s shoulders and helped him to his feet. By some miracle Molly managed to stay upright on his own. Caleb moved away across the moss-and-grass-covered ground; as he did, the awe he’d felt upon entering the room returned, and his breath caught in his throat. “You found this place earlier,” Caleb said. “You were in here, weren’t you?”

“I… yeah. I found something. Something important. I just…” Molly trailed off with a frustrated snarl, followed by a dull _thud._

Caleb turned. Molly was back on his knees, arms wrapped around himself, shaking his head as if trying to dislodge an invisible mosquito. Caleb’s heart jolted and he began to approach, then stopped, realization dawning, “Ah, right. You’re cold.”

Molly nodded. “Terribly.” He looked up, tilting his head back, baring his throat. There were burns forming there, patches where the radiation had eaten away at Molly’s skin. One was dangerously close to Molly’s beloved tattoos; Caleb fervently hoped they could find help before it got any worse.

“Alright, _ja_, you’re probably still in shock.” Caleb looked around the room. For a moment his mind was blank with a mix of weariness and panic, and then he had an epiphany: _the heatlamps!_

Caleb made his way to the back of the room, where a particularly bright set of heatlamps hung over what appeared to be a coffin with a glass lid. As he got closer, he realized it was full of delicate blue and gold flowers with four petals and slender stems. There was a golden plaque on it, but before he could lean down close enough to read it, a tremendous _crash_ sounded in the hallway outside the second chamber. 

“Shit!” Molly hissed. Caleb turned and found him crouched, staring wildly at the sealed door between them and the inhospitable first chamber. “Shit, Caleb, there’s someone out there.”

_Thud. Thud. Thud._ Someone was banging on the hatch. The thuds were soft and fleshy, bare hands on solid metal. Caleb’s chest constricted, his heart sinking. No one in their right mind would be wandering around out here without a radiation suit. Which only left one possibility as to who—or what—was outside that door.

“Come to me, over here.” Caleb made a frantic gesture and Molly gained his feet just long enough to stagger across the room to Caleb’s side. Caleb caught him before he hit the ground, and they ended up on their knees side-by-side, breathing hard. “They will hear you,” Caleb whispered. “Stay quiet.”

“Hear _me? _I’m not the one talking,” Molly said, then, seemingly realizing his mistake, clamped a hand over his mouth. “Oh, shit.”

“_Ja,_” Caleb said, trying not to sound as exasperated as he felt. “I have a sound-proof helmet on. You do not.”

_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

Molly shook his head. “_Fuck,”_ he mouthed.

_Thud thud thud!_

“Caleb—”

“Molly, please be quiet.”

“No, Caleb, listen, there’s something I need to—”

“_Mollymauk._”

“The flowers,” Molly hissed. 

Caleb pushed himself upright, staring down at Molly. There was a fanatical light in Molly’s eyes, bright and slightly crazed. Caleb’s heart skipped a beat as a fresh wave of fear and concern overwhelmed him. “Molly, are you alri—?”

“You have to get the flowers,” Molly said. His eyes slid shut. Just like earlier, his words ran together, slurred and all but incomprehensible. He listed to one side, then slumped over, sprawling in the grass with a frustrated groan. “Take them with you, Caleb. Take the flowers.”

_Thud! Thud! THUD!_

Caleb shook his head. Confusion joined the cocktail of emotions boiling inside him, adding more adrenaline fuel to his body’s internal fire. “I don’t understand. Which flowers? Why do you want me to take them?” 

No response. He reached out and shook Molly’s shoulder, but Molly didn’t respond. Caleb swore softly, rubbing a hand over his facial screen. Calling up his diagnostics screen, he activated his infrared heat camera. He focused on Molly’s body, skimming the numbers scrolling across the screen. _37.2 degrees Celsius. 35.2 degrees Celsius. 34.9 degrees Celsius. 34.7 degrees Celsius. _

Caleb swore again. Hypothermia. No wonder Molly had passed out. His body was losing heat much faster than it could create it, and to make matters worse, Caleb knew Molly ran unusually hot. A temperature this low could easily kill an average person; it was even more dangerous for a hot-blooded person like Molly.

Outside, the thudding stopped. Caleb wanted to believe that whatever it was had moved on, but unfortunately that was extremely unlikely. The infected had nothing to do but wait. The hunt would end only when one or both parties were dead.

Caleb pulled out a tiny laser (only for _serious _emergencies, Beau had informed him with an unnecessary degree of aggressiveness) and flicked it on, standing up until he was face-to-face with the chain of the largest heatlamp. Holding the laser in one hand and the chain in the other, he sliced through the links one by one until the chain soundlessly broke. Holding his breath, Caleb lowered the lamp by its severed chain, settling it on its side next to Molly.

He did the same with two other lamps, creating a corral of warmth around Molly’s prone body. As he put the last one in place, he checked the numbers on his screen again. He gave a relived sigh as they began to rise slightly. If nothing else, Molly was stable. Thank the gods for small(ish) miracles. 

Caleb had just finished arranging the lamps when whatever it was outside the door slammed itself against the hatch with a tremendous _crunch_, followed by a long, low groan of pain. Caleb’s body lit up with adrenaline (surprising, he thought, that he had any left at all) and he reached for the hunter’s knife folded in his pocket. He drew it out and pressed the button on the hilt, the blade flicking out and gleaming blood-red in the lamplight. _Whatever comes through that door,_ he told himself, _I will kill it. There’s no other option._

_Thud! Thud! CRACK!_

The mechanism holding the hatch shut broke, worn by years and years of wear and use. The door swung open, and through it, Caleb saw a pair of bloodshot eyes. They gleamed in the light, unnaturally green and foggy: a late-stage symptom of the virus.

As the infected woman ran at him, Caleb reacted naturally, instinctively. In that instant, all his military training came back, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out the laser. He turned it on and pointed it at the crazed woman. Her skin burned and peeled, and she paused, gasping and choking, blood and spit running down her chin. But then she shook herself and glared at him, baring rotting teeth. “_Nice try,” _she hissed, and leapt at him.

_That wasn’t my whole plan,_ Caleb thought, wild and fearless with adrenaline. And as the woman came down on him, he plunged the knife up through her ribs and into her heart.

Her blood spattered his mask, dripping down his suit and coating his arms from fingertips to elbows. As he yanked out the knife and shoved her away, she collapsed, twitching and gasping, her cloudy eyes rolling in her head before finally fixing in place. She went limp, mouth gaping open, chest bloody, hands curled like nail-less talons.

Caleb stayed on his knees for a moment, panting and gripping the knife and laser in shaking hands. Then his training kicked back in and he was across the room, slamming and sealing the door as best he could. He cursed as the broken latch prevented him from creating a full seal, reaching into his pocket for something to stuff into the open cracks. 

“Hey, Caleb?”

Caleb whirled at the sound of Molly’s voice. “Mollymauk, you’re awake,” he began to say, then stopped dead as he realized why Molly sounded so urgent and borderline panicked: one of the heatlamps had tipped over. 

“No!” Caleb threw himself at the lamp, but he was too late. Fire erupted around it, catching in patches of dry grass, flames rising high in the over-oxygenated space. He fell back, yelling for Molly to _move, damnit_, but as smoke filled the small room and the fire spread into the trees and up brittle vines, he was forced to fall back toward the hatch. His radiation suit was resistant to many things, but fire wasn’t one of them. 

Caleb fell against the battered hatch, and in that moment, he made his choice. Distantly, he realized that this was how Molly must have felt out on the hill, desperate with panic, too scared to think clearly. The difference was that Caleb was aware of the dangers of his decision, and yet he still did it.

One hard push, and the hatch swung open. Hot, smoky air mingled with the stale air in the first chamber, and the flames died down, no longer fueled by an excess of oxygen trapped in an enclosed space.

“Mollymauk!” Caleb inched back into the room, careful of the patches of fire still burning red-hot among crumpled leaves and singed grasses. “Molly, do you read me?”

Nothing.

“_Mollymauk. _Do. You. Read. Me?”

Static and silence.

It took a few laps around the room for Caleb to be absolutely sure. It was impossible, and yet, faced with irrefutable proof, his rational mind could no longer deny the truth: Molly had disappeared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT TO RANT BUT FUCK HTML THE FORMATTING WAS BEING SO WEIRD AND I HAD TO UPLOAD THIS CHAPTER FOUR TIMES. FUCK.
> 
> But on a more positive note I love writing without an outline because I never have a single fucking clue where a chapter is going to end up; in this case, I didn't know the ending until it ended!! To be honest, me and Caleb are equally confused about how to handle this situation. Yikes.
> 
> Anyway, thank you SO FUCKING MUCH to everyone who read/left kudos/commented on the previous chapter!! And thank you so much to everyone who hates zombie apocalypse stories but is giving this a try anyway (and I especially apologize for the unexpected zombie attack at the end of this chapter. That was also something I didn't anticipate happening until it happened, and then it did, and unfortunately at that point I was too lazy to write anything else.)
> 
> Love you all so much!! <3 Thanks again for all your kind words and support, I appreciate it SO MUCH!! <3 <3 <3


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